


490. Shaking in my own cage

by SevlinRipley



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Canon Jewish Character, Established Relationship, Financial Issues, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Neck Kissing, discussing the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: Prompt: Neck kisses





	490. Shaking in my own cage

It took some convincing... and on top of that a few short trial-runs, before Mike could get Stanley to feel safe sitting on the edge of the loft within the barn. Among hay and animals is not the ideal place for lunch, but the winds are billowing outside, drawing a storm in with lilac-indigo clouds. Mike's not allowed in the house until his chores are done, and then it's straight to wash up. So he frequently eats _around_.

Sitting on a stump near the line of trees at the edge of the farm, up on the fence surrounding where the animals graze. And on days like this, when Stanley brings him a sandwich wrapped in a handkerchief made of his mother's brisket, and a thermos of Country Time pink lemonade, and the skies are about to pour down like the end is nigh? It's up in the loft, with the doors of the barn sealed shut, only the shudders ajar for fresh air on the upper half. The ones with the smallest window.

With their legs dangling over the ledge, Stanley massages at Mike's nearest shoulder while Mike eats. No prim and proper bites, no careful chewing. The way he did when he and Stanley first started dating. The way his grandfather had taught him. These days Mike hates wasting time with his food. At least when Stan's there. If he's having lunch alone, he still savors it. But he'd much rather spend his time with his hands and mouth busy elsewhere, for the duration of his allotted half an hour.

He's still amazed each and every time Stan pulls him down, Mike's shirt scrunched up in his hands, as he tugs their mouths together, and Mike over the top of him. Whether it be outside in the grass, or here in the clean hay. Even though Mike's only washed everything down with whatever drink Stanley bought. But it doesn't seem to bother him... He just latches on to Mike's lips, hand braced at the side of his head, and let's Mike cover a third of his hip span with his large hands.

Today is different though. It's one of the softer days. Maybe the quiet before the storm.

He finishes swigging back his lemonade, lips smacking back the final surge of tang. Stan's already got his hands on the thermos, carefully screwing the lid back to the top before setting it behind them, along with the kerchief he shakes out over the floor far below. And then he's tugging at Mike's bicep, pulling him to lay half on his back, half on his side in Stanley's lap. As it turns out, so that he can rub at the shoulder he couldn't reach before.

An audible sigh escapes Mike's lips, as he melts into Stanley's lap. It's somewhat bony there, but then Mike must be heavy. There's give and there's take, and if they were somewhere comfier, like a bed, he'd gladly have Stan spoon him. But if they were on a bed, instead, he'd gladly have Stan do a lot of things he'd never ask of him in a barn.

"Have you decided yet?" Stanley asks, quiet, eyes focused, but not on meeting Mike's.

Ah, the school talk, again.

Stan's dying to leave Derry. He and Mike both got into a fairly good school. The tuition isn't - it's not low-cost, that's for sure. Mike's reluctant to have his grandfather co-sign for a loan bigger than he has to. A grant has been awarded to him, for various reasons, which would help at the local community college. But would barely make a mark for this other school. This University. Wouldn't do _anything_ about living costs. Or the lack of hands his grandfather would then have around the farm if he left.

At the noticeable stiffing of Mike's torso, over him, Stan sighs and looks away, upset at himself for causing Mike grief. But, "It's just that... if you don't enroll soon, then it'll close and. It's okay if you can't. But could you just pull the trigger if you're staying here?"

Could he? Furthermore, could he stay here without Stanley. Without any of the others? Could he give himself away to the power of Derry that kept everything locked up inside it, hostages all, and let it eat at his soul like so many before him? Too many to count.

Mike knew that the last thing Stan was being was selfish. He was trying to save them. Both of them. Trying with his whole heart to throw Mike over his shoulder and barrel through the walls of fire surrounding them, out into the oxygen, into the freedom of life.

For this very reason, Mike is so, so close to coming to a conclusion that he's not sure he's ready for. But he thinks he might be able to make it work, if Stan's willing to compromise.

Sitting up, Mike slowly rises from the edge of the loft, and then sticks out his hands to help Stan up as well. Then he's pulling Stanley over to a higher stack of hay, with an older blanket over the top, and sits back on it, calling Stan to sit between is legs in front of him. And once he's got Stan wrapped up in his arms, back to chest, he presses a soft kiss to the side of Stanley's neck. Takes in a sharp little breath at the way it makes Stan shiver in his arms. The way Mike, in theory, knows it always will, but still finds entrancing in practice.

But now's not the time to distract Stan further. Mike just wanted to soften the blow a little. Remind Stan there are other parts of their relationship that keep them tied together. The way little kisses get under their skin, how they sometimes start humming the same song at the same time without reason, how Mike is _almost_ certain that those things (among many others) will act as a glue if they have to go for periods of time where they're separated.

With his cheek bone pressed up to Stan's temple, a soft curl smooshed between their heads, Mike says softly, "I think just for a year... Just for a year, I need to get a job in town." So he could still help around the farm in the day time. "Save some money... and then I can join you. Just a year. And you can visit when school's out. Okay?" Join him, not to go to school, but to continue working. But at least by then, he'll have been able to get his grandfather settled with some help. And he can go and watch, proud, as Stan studies his way through school... It'll be okay that way, Mike thinks.

It's scary, when Stan answers, for so long, with silence. But it's less so, because his hands are folded over Mike's, tight and possessive, knuckles protruding. Then he's saying, thick, and maybe a little frantic, "Kiss me more. Make it count, Mike." Voice raspy with it, as thunder sounds outside, and the rain begins to pelt at the wood paneling of the barn.

He does. Mike makes sure every inch of Stanley's neck is touched by his lips. First starting with the back, his nape, with his little hairs there. Then he pushes Stan back, and straddles his hips and kisses up and down the column of his throat until Stan is clutching at his shirt and breathing shuddery little breaths against Mike's ear. And Mike has to kiss his mouth calm, kiss his eyebrows smooth, and kiss the red knuckles of his hands white again. All in between whispered promises that Mike's going to think of nothing but him for the whole damn school year and that after that, he's never gonna leave Stan's side again.

 

That night, Mike's grandfather asks him a similar question. "You decide on a school yet?" And when Mike answers that he won't be going to school, but working in town instead, and saving money to help hire an extra farm hand for the future, his grandfather looks at him as if he's sprouted two horns. Mike's grandfather shakes his head, adamant and almost disturbingly wide. "No. No. _No_ grandson of mine is missing out on an education when he has a perfectly good college fund waiting to be tapped."

It's news to Mike. So much so that his eyes catch up, start tearing, before the rest of his brain does, and he stutters out a soft plea for his grandfather to explain what he means.

"...You didn't think your folks and myself were raising you without putting money away, did you? What? You thought you'd been working for free all this time? The day you started helping, you started earning wages. Right into that college fund your parents 'd been putting money into, before."

After a long, enthusiastic, and tearful hug, Mike bikes to Stanley's with such speed and abandon he nearly gets melded to some headlights. But it's worth it when Stan starts crying too, and tackles, literally tackles Mike onto his bed, smothering him in kisses and holding him close with his whole body. Spouting over and over how much he loves Mike, with Mike whispering it fiercely right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from K. Flay's "Black Wave"
> 
> I'm so sorry if this sucks. I'm still a little exhausted emotionally and mentally and I hope this feels complete enough to fill your request, anon. ♥


End file.
